


Completions and Connections

by misspamela



Category: New Girl
Genre: Christmas, Chromatic Yuletide, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-20
Updated: 2012-12-20
Packaged: 2017-11-21 17:15:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/600200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misspamela/pseuds/misspamela
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Normally, Cece had a secret love for Jello shots and bitchiness, and showing up and being a pretty face, no matter where, was a crucial part of her career, but she had better plans. Unfortunately, those plans involved Schmidt, but life wasn’t always fair.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Completions and Connections

**Author's Note:**

  * For [abbichicken](https://archiveofourown.org/users/abbichicken/gifts).



> Dear abbichicken, you asked for seasonal shenanigans and you said you liked Cece, so here is a holiday episode from Cece's POV! I hope you like it. Happy Yuletide!

Cece had an invitation to three different parties for the Saturday before Christmas. One was with the girls from the agency, which would involve sugar-free Jello shots, kale chips, and bitching about photographers. She was also invited to an industry thing, thrown by this director and his husband, both of them filthy rich, and Cece would be there to fill the “beautiful people” quota. 

Normally, Cece had a secret love for Jello shots and bitchiness, and showing up and being a pretty face, no matter where, was a crucial part of her career, but she had better plans. Unfortunately, those plans involved Schmidt, but life wasn’t always fair. 

Cece opened her closet and contemplated the options. Which dress was the best for making Schmidt drool at her rack _and_ surviving a possible onslaught of glitter crafts and Christmas cookies? 

…..

“Welcome to Jess’ First Annual Multicultural Holiday Shindig!” Jess yelled, showering Cece with confetti the second the door opened. Jess beamed at her from under the red and green fluttering paper, and Cece couldn’t help herself from smiling back. Damn, it was hard to be down when Jess was in a good mood. 

“Hi baby,” she said, leaning in for a kiss on Jess’ cheek. Jess was wearing a red cardigan and a skirt that looked like...well, a tree skirt. “You look festive.” 

“I am Christmas itself,” she said, wiggling her hips. “Not that this is a Christmas party. It’s a _holiday_ party. All holidays.” She gave a wobbly little curtsey that meant she’d been hitting the eggnog already. “We bid you welcome, madam, to our non-denominational winter festival of delights.” 

Schmidt walked up behind Jess, shaking his head. “ _Christmas_ ,” he mouthed. Out loud he said, “Well, Hanukkah was two weeks ago, so, you know,” and shrugged. Fuck, his shoulders looked good in that shirt. Cece bit her tongue almost hard enough to draw blood. _Down, girl,_ , she told herself.

“Hey, Schmidt,” she said, smiling and wrapping her arms around her body to avoid hugging him. God, she hoped there wasn’t any mistletoe around here. She was a weak, weak woman. 

“Looking good, Ceece,” he said, eyeing her up and down. “You want to go uh, light some candles with me in the corner over there? Talk about our respective festivals of lights?” 

“Tell me you’re not talking about Diwali,” she said on a sigh. “For the hundredth time, Schmidt, I’m Catholic.” 

“Catholics like candles!” he called as she walked away.

“Hey, Cece,” Winston said, rushing by her, his arms filled with clinking booze bottles. “Can’t talk, on my way to make some magic. Magic in my _tummy_.” He hustled away, singing, “ _Do you believe in maaaaagic?_ ” 

“Craft time!” Jess waved her over to the table. There were piles of construction paper sorted by color, glue, glitter glue, cotton balls, loose glitter, and oooh, stickers. Cece sat down next to Jess and stole the zig-zag craft scissors out of her hand. “Hey!” Jess said, smiling. “Now my snowman will have a boring, straight-edged hat.” 

“Speaking of straight edge,” Cece giggled, cutting her way through two layers of red and gold paper. “Remember?”

“Aaaauuuggghhh, Joey Dubinsky,” Jess groaned. “Oh my god, he was the worst.”

“Oh, he is _Joseph_ now, according to Facebook.” Cece hovered her hand over the glitter glue before deciding on the multicolor one. This was going to be the sparkliest pair of mittens _ever_.

“I don’t even know why I liked him,” Jess sighed. 

“He played the accordion,” Cece said flatly, because seriously? 

“Oh yeah,” Jess sighed. “Do you ever think I’ll meet a guy like that again?”

Cece bumped her shoulder. “Your accordion-playing prince will come, I’m sure.” 

The sound of a whirring blender broke through the party noise. “Oh damn,” Jess said, getting up. “I told Winston to hold off on the rum drinks until after midnight. Winston!” She took off in a flurry of red, green, and gold. 

“If anyone spills rum on my hand towels, there will be blood,” Schmidt said darkly, dropping into the chair next to Cece.

“Won’t you just have to clean up the blood with your hand towels?” Cece asked, putting the last, sparkly touches on her mittens. 

“What is the point of having _decorative_ hand towels if you don’t have backup hand towels?” Schmidt said, gesturing toward the kitchen and nearly knocking over a bottle of glitter. “Use your head, Cece!” 

“Drink more,” she said, sighing. 

“No amount of alcohol can abate my love of fine linens,” he said, but drank anyway. 

 

They were interrupted by yelling coming from the kitchen area. “No! No! You are not humiliating me, Jess!” Cece went to investigate, because she was always a sucker for Nick getting humiliated. 

“You’re humiliating yourself,” Jess said, trying to wrestle something onto Nick’s head as he tried to slap her hands away. Whatever she was holding, it jingled. “It’s okay, Nick! We love that you’re the angry elf!”

“I’m not an angry elf!” Nick yelled, stomping his feet. He really did look like a weird combination of an old man and a toddler. It was definitely elf-like. “I’m not wearing your hat, I’m not being merry, and I am leaving for Chicago first thing tomorrow, so you can just get that lady drink away from me, Winston.” He whirled to point at Winston with, Cece noted with satisfaction, the elf hat half on his head.

“This is _my_ lady drink, Nick.” Winston snatched the fishbowl-sized glass to his chest, sloshing the pink contents over the rim. “Get your own.” He took a long swig from the twisty straw. “Wooooooo!” he yelled, holding his free hand up triumphantly. “I hereby call this drink the Christmas Miracle! Write it down, guys. I’m saving that one.” He walked over to Cece and started dancing up on her. “Work it, work it, work it,” he said, dropping it like it was hot. 

“Merry Christmas, Winston,” she said, refusing to work it. 

“I just love the holidays, you know?” he said, draping an arm around her without missing a beat. “Friends, family, twinkling lights, those red cups at Starbucks, people bringing all those unwrapped toys to kids who don’t get toys.” He stopped and sniffed. “Those _kids_ ,” he said, wiping at the corner of his eye, nearly spilling his drink down her front. 

“Are you crying?” she asked, edging away. Damn, she was going to find Schmidt. 

“The children,” he said, pushing her away. “Think of the children!” He pointed at her, backing into the snack table. “You are a cold woman, Cece. A cold, cold woman. You are not worthy of the Christmas Miracle,” he said, caressing the bottom of the glass. “None for you!” He spun on his heel and walked over to the couch where the guys were hanging out. Cece decided not to tell him he had frosting on his sweater. 

“Look, it’s my special Jewish snowflake. Reppin’ the Hebrews, son.” Schmidt held up a large, elaborate snowflake. He’d obviously been drinking since Cece left.

“What makes it Jewish?” Jess asked, looking up from the snowman she was glittering into oblivion, ignoring CeCe as she shook her head rapidly behind Schmidt’s turned back. 

Schmidt delicately pulled back his cuffs, careful, Cece noted, not to crease the fabric. Like a magician performing a trick, he held up the snowflake and picked up a pair of scissors, holding them dramatically against the lower point of the snowflake. 

“No,” Winston said, cringing backwards on the couch. “Man, no.”

“Noooooo,” howled Nick, his body curling protectively around his junk. “Schmidt, no.” 

“Aww yeah,” Schmidt said as he dramatically snipped off the tip of the lower point. “Behold my heritage, bitches!” he said, raising the snowflake dramatically above his head. "I am the Christmas mohel!"

“Auuuugggh,” Winston said, flapping his hands at Schmidt while Nick writhed next to him on the couch. “Get it away.” 

“And then, at the end, we had to think about Schmidt’s penis,” Jess intoned, mournfully adding a hat to the snowman. She perked up, examining it, and CeCe felt a rush of delight at Jess’s inability to hold a bad mood. “Ceece, it kind of looks like my Uncle Andy, don’t you think?”

Huh. “Weirdly,” Cece said, “it does.” 

“Helloooo, Jess, hrumph, hrumph, hrumph,” Jess said, making the snowman waddle back and forth. “And how is my favorite niece this Christmas?” Jess picked up a gingerbread man and said in a higher voice, “More sober than you, Uncle Andy!” 

“And that’s not saying much.” Cece reached out to pull gently at Jess’ hair. “Great party,” she said softly.

“Thanks, friend,” Jess put her head down on the crook of her arm. “Do you think it’s time for shots before I get sappy?” 

“Most definitely,” Cece said, pulling her up. 

_Later_

“The thing is,” Nick said, pushing the jingle bell out of his face, only to have it drop back again, “I’m an angry elf.”

“You got that right, mister,” Jess said, saluting him with her drink.

They were all sitting around the kitchen table, feeling no pain. Cece had kicked her shoes off and was ignoring the way Schmidt kept “accidentally” “bumping” her foot. 

“I mean,” Nick continued, “I admit it. There’s nothing to be ashamed of.” 

“Be proud of your tiny, world-hating self,” Winston agreed, clapping him on the back. “Because you’re my brother and I love you.”

“I love you too, man,” Nick said, swaying into him. “Ugh, why does saying that make me so angry?”

Cece let her head fall back, heavy from the booze and the three huge cookies she’d had. “No kale,” she muttered. 

“Wassail?” Schmidt murmured into her ear? “Assail? Mikhael?” 

The fact that she found him sexy was the absolute tragedy of her life. “Schmidt,” she said, trying to sound stern, “I swear.” Sadly, any sternness she was able to muster was derailed by her inability to lift her head. Well, she _could_ lift her head. She was choosing not to.

“Merry Christmas, Cece,” he said softly. 

“Happy Hanukkah two weeks late, Schmidt,” she said quietly, her eyes still closed, letting the sounds of Winston and Nick murdering “Silent Night,” wash over her as Jess snored loudly next to her, with the smell of cookies and peppermint and rum hanging in the air. She was more content than she’d been in a long, long time. She was so content that she didn’t even protest when Schmidt grazed her boob every time he went for the chips. 

“Get it, girl,” Jess mumbled next to her. 

“Already got it,” she said, because really, what more could she ask for? 

Tomorrow she’d have a hangover and deal with washing the glitter out of her dress. She’d have to call her parents and make arrangements for going home after New Year’s. She’d have to deal with the Schmidt thing at some point, seriously, but for right now, everything was all good.

It was a Multicultural Holiday Shindig miracle.

“Hey Winston,” Cece said, opening her eyes. “I have the name of your next drink.”


End file.
